


Now and Forever

by Raelyn_Sakura



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Atem and TKB are BFFs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-09-17 21:09:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9344960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raelyn_Sakura/pseuds/Raelyn_Sakura
Summary: The Millenium Items were never created. Akefia grew up with his family in Kul Elna, a village of tomb builders. He never expected that he would be drafted into the young prince's service as his chief tomb builder and designer.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this in my folder is "Akefia's Royal Babysitting Service"

The harvest is over and the festivities are soon to begin. Dancing and singing to the light of bonfires that cast a rosy glow on Nut’s underbelly, with its myriad of stars. It’s a time for drinking and telling stories and rejoicing in the wonderful harvest that the Nile has provided for Khemet.

And Akefia is stuck on the back of a horse, trying to keep an eye on his two youngest siblings seated in front of them, so they don’t fall off with all their screaming and wiggling and complaining. A headache throbs behind his temples and the sweltering sun beats down viciously from above, the kufiyah he was wearing only a thin barrier. He hunches over, grabbing the knee of his little sister who is trying for the millionth time to fall to her death off the back of a horse, and squeezing her a bit too tightly in warning.

Little Nefer shrieks at him and bats her small fist against his hand. “Leggo me!” 

“If you don’t stay still I’ll throw you off this horse myself,” Akefia threatens under his breath. He’s 15, a man, much too old to be playing babysitter on a trip across the desert for some prince’s birthday celebration.

Seti yelled ahead. “Mama! He wants to kill us!” as Nefer burst into loud tears.

Not far ahead, Tiy turns her head imperiously and squints at the horse taking up the rear of the group. Akefia meets his mother’s gaze sullenly and she frowns.

“All of you will walk if you don’t behave!” Merenre threatens from the front. “Akhet, let go of your sister.”

Akefia bristles at his mother’s childhood pet name for him and grits his teeth to avoid saying something that will earn him a slap from his father. He releases Nefer, who starts crying harder and reaching for her father.

“I want baba!” she howls, shrill voice sending another dart of pain straight into Akefia’s skull like a dagger.

Akefia fights the urge to yell in annoyance. He could be back home right now, drinking with his friends and watching the dancers pay tribute to the gods for a great harvest. If not that, then his parents could have easily left the younger two with Maatkare, their older sister. She has five children of her own. She can handle two more whiny little brats. Instead, Merenre decides to drag the entire family to Thebes to pay tribute to the sole prince of Khemet.

“It’s a wonderful omen for the future,” Tiy had agreed, “to have a son reach his tenth birthday. This is indeed a cause for celebration. Prince Atem will ensure the survival and safety of our nation for another generation.”

“Still doesn’t explain why we have to drag ourselves all the way across the desert just to say congratulations,” Akefia mutters, steadying little Seti as he leans too far over the side of the horse. He considers for a second letting the child go, letting him learn the hard way to sit still on a horse, but knows that his mother and father will have his head. Besides, Seti is his little brother, and Nefer his sister, so he really doesn’t want to see them come to harm.

Ahmose glances back their way and tugs on Tiy’s sleeve to get her attention. Nefer is still crying, though her sobs are not as loud or violent anymore. Tiy slows her horse to match Akefia’s pace and Ahmose holds out her arms for Nefer.

“Come here, my beloved,” she coos. “Come, ride with mama and me.”

Nefer latches on to Ahmose immediately and quiets once she is sitting in between Ahmose and her mother. Ahmose gives her a length of braided yarn to entertain herself with, and it consumes Nefer’s attention immediately. Ahmose winks at Akefia.

“And that’s how it’s done!” she teases. She hands Seti a small piece of bread to occupy himself with and Tiy steers their horse back behind her husband’s.

Merenre, from the front of the group, suddenly shouts, “We’re close!” He turns his head to beam at his family. Ahmose cheers, throwing her hands into the air. At nearly eleven years old, she is already turning into a beauty like their mother, with thick hair and delicate hands constantly smeared with ink from her calligraphy lessons.

Seti half turns to Akefia and looks up at him with wide eyes. “I wanna go fast and see,” he begs, tugging on Akefia’s sleeve.

Akefia grins. “Then hold on,” he warns before urging their horse into a canter. They quickly outstrip their parents and siblings, breaking for the top of the dune ahead of them. The Nile sparkles to their left, throwing dazzling patters across the sand and lighting up as if on fire by the light of the setting sun. Seti is squealing with delight, holding onto Akefia’s right arm tightly.

They crest the hill and suddenly Thebes is before them, like a white jewel in the desert sands. There are palm trees with fronds swaying in the breeze from the Nile, people no bigger than ants at this distance scurrying between limestone houses and onto boats made of cypress that float on the Nile like the toys Merenre used to carve for his children to play with in his spare time. There are carts and merchant stalls lining the streets, because this isn’t just any harvest festival. This is the future Pharaoh’s birthday, and people are going all out for it. 

Merenre reigns in his horse on Akefia’s right. “What do you think? This is your first time seeing the capital.”

Akefia squints harder and shrugs, a need to be stubborn rising inside of him. “It’s okay. It’s not home.”

Merenre sighs. “It’s not like we’re staying here forever. There will be other harvest festivals, but only one celebration for the young prince’s tenth birthday. We must thank the gods that our future leader is already so strong.”

Akefia supposes his father is right. Children don’t typically live to be ten in many situations. And while they had a good harvest this year, there weren’t always good harvests. They did have much to be thankful for; Akefia just wants to be thankful for it at home with his friends, not in some royal city where they don’t know anyone.

“We’ll be there in another hour or so, wouldn’t you say, my dear?” Tiy asks, stopping her horse beside her husband. Nefer squeals from her place and practically throws herself at Merenre. Merenre picks her up easily with one hand and plops her down in front of him.

“I would say closer to two. The sun can play strange tricks with your eyes in the desert,” Merenre responds. “Let’s go.”  
\----------------------------  
They reach the city just as the sun is setting behind the Valley of the Kings, the Aten’s many long arms thrown up in a last tribute to the day, as Ra makes his way down to the underworld. Seti has dozed off against Akefia’s chest, snuggling down into his tunic. Akefia pats the six year old’s head to wake him as they stop before a tavern and an inn, where they plan to bed for the night. The celebrations for the prince start in the morning. 

The room had one small bed that is claimed by Merenre and Tiy, while the children are given blankets to spread out on the floor. The floor is clean, the food is hot, and the water is cold, and Akefia is soon on the verge of sleep, nestled down into his blankets when Ahmose rolls over so that they are facing each other. Her eyes reflect the bright moonlight outside, so Akefia knows she is awake. They lie there facing each other without speaking for a time until Merenre’s monstrous snores start up. 

“What do you think he’s like?” Ahmose breathes, so quietly that Akefia almost doesn’t hear her. 

“Who?” he asks, though he knew who she is talking about.

“Prince Atem,” is the answer.

Akefia shrugs. “I guess we’ll have to see.”

“I guess we’ll have to see,” Ahmose repeats dreamily, eyes shutting and succumbing to sleep at last.

Akefia rolls onto his back and follows soon after.  
\------------------------------------  
Akefia has no idea how peasants are able to speak to a pharaoh, or even to get into the palace, but they manage it, and Akefia is soon gaping at the rich splendor around him. Vases as tall as a man, beautifully painted and adorned with lapis lazuli, are set up every few yards in the white marble hall. The walls are painted with fantastic, colorful murals depicting plentiful food and parties with dancers and musicians playing all kinds of instruments. There are pictures of various gods that Akefia can recognize by name from growing up with a priestess for a mother. Akefia also noticed several scenes of what must be the royal family themselves, the current pharaoh standing tall and interacting with his wife and a child with hair that rose in spikes from his scalp. Akefia takes a close look at the depiction of the child. The prince doesn’t resemble his parents at all, what with his huge spiky hair, although the red eyes are painted the same as his father. A child with unusual hair and eyes. What a strange omen.

Akefia focuses in as his father is talking to a member of the royal guard. He announces them as the village leader and his family from Kul Elna, the village of tomb builders. He hands the parcel he rode with on his horse to the guard, who inspects the contents of it. A lovely blue coat that Tiy had made herself for the young prince. The guard smiles at it and hands it back to Merenre, nodding at him to enter the royal chamber. Another guard goes with them to announce them.

If Akefia is impressed by the hall, then he is floored by the grandeur of the throne room. A high vaulted ceiling stretches so far to the sky that Akefia has to crane his neck to see the top. The ceiling is dotted with a few windows that are positioned artfully to let in sunlight. The room they are in is enormous, and filled with people. On Akefia’s left, Ahmose gasps and points out several camels carrying woven baskets overflowing with gold from foreign lands. Rich perfumes and incense suffuse the air, bringing with them a heady scent. The smell of meat comes from somewhere in the room, and Akefia’s mouth waters, overpowering the memory of the slice of bread he had for breakfast that morning.

For once, Seti and Nefer are quiet, clinging to both of Tiy’s hands and looking around in complete awe. They’ve never seen a room this big in their lives; not even the village temple Tiy tends to is half the size of this room.

Craning his neck and standing on his toes, Akefia searches the room for the royal throne. He finds it several hundred yards straight ahead, and he manages to make out the figures seated on the dais. There’s an old, squat man with graying hair smiling at the proceedings. He is standing beside the throne, occupied by the King of Egypt, a man in a flowing purple robe and wearing the crown of Upper and Lower Egypt, the ruler of the two lands, a god incarnate. He sat as hard and strong as the god Obelisk himself, unmoving except to nod his head at each dignitary and occasionally to murmur something to the boy sitting on another, smaller throne next to him.

Ah, yes. This is the prince. The wall murals have not exaggerated his hair. It sticks straight up, a black cloud tinged with red at the ends and with golden bangs that remind Akefia of lightning bolts. Red eyes peeks out from under the impressive head of hair, and the boy fidgets, dragging his fingers along the arms of his throne and occasionally adjusting the crown on his head, as if it bothered him. As Akefia watched, the child reached up to fidget with it again and was stopped by a tall boy standing beside his throne and wearing a disapproving scowl on his face. The prince turns and says something to the boy, whose startling blue eyes narrow and deepens his scowl. He says something back and the prince giggles, reaching out to poke at the boy until his father the king puts a massive hand on his head. The boy jerks himself straight again and looks determinedly forward for all of half a minute before fiddling with his crown again.

“Can you see?” Ahmose asks, breathless from excitement, practically bouncing from foot to foot as they wait their turn to greet their king and prince.

“Yeah, I can see them just fine,” Akefia murmurs, pushing white bangs out of his eyes and looking to see how far they had to go.

Ahmose moves behind him with her hands on his shoulders. “Let me on your back!”

Akefia steps out of her grasp. “No!”

“Yes!” she growls, and makes as if to jump on him when Tiy places her hand on Ahmose’s shoulder.

“Behave; we will be there soon enough,” Tiy says sternly, and wraps her arm around Ahmose, pulling the girl close to her. Ahmose pouts and scuffs a foot against the floor, but waits obediently by their mother.

The line goes slowly, and the two youngest are starting to fidget. Nefer wanders back to Akefia and demands to be held, and yells when Akefia shakes his head, her lower lip quivering dangerously.

Akefia quickly kneels before his sister. “Listen, Neferu, you can’t go yelling like that. We’re going to meet a king.”

Nefer sniffs. “But tired,” she whines, her arms reaching out to encircle Akefia’s neck. “Akhet! I tired!”

Akefia rolls his eyes at the emergence of his nickname, and slowly disentangles her arms from his shoulders. “Stand a little longer. We don’t have very much longer. Then you have to bow. Remember how baba told you to bow, Neferu?”

Nefer brightens and kneels down with her head touching the ground. “Like dis?” she asks, turning her face up from the ground to grin at Akefia.

He ruffles her hair then stands her back up. “Exactly like that. Only no talking, remember?”

Suddenly aware that they are holding up the line, Akefia quickly gets to his feet and falls into step behind his father, clutching Nefer’s tiny hand in his. 

By now they are almost at the front of the line. There are only two more groups before them. Akefia can see the little prince more clearly now. The child is clearly bored, resorting to kicking his feet against the base of the throne. Up close, his eyes are stunning, rubies set into a young, round face with high, delicate cheekbones and long eyelashes. His eyes roam over the crowds gathered in his honor, and he props his chin up in a hand before the tall boy next to him, who looks to be a few years younger than Akefia, puts a stop to it, glaring daggers at the young prince, sapphire into rubies. The prince just smirks at him and kicks his feet harder, causing the boy to roll his eyes to the heavens as if to look to the gods for guidance.

And then, Akefia is kneeling before his pharaoh and the entire court gathered around him, laying his head on the floor as instructed to pay respects to the god-king and the Horus incarnate. Nefer kneels beside him as well, Ahmose on his other side.

“All blessings to the great Pharaoh, ruler of the two lands!” Merenre calls from his place at the head of the kneeling family. “And blessings also to his great son! May your names be recorded for eternity among the great kings of our land!”

“Well met, tomb builder,” the great Pharaoh answers in his gruff voice. “Rise, you and your family. You are welcome in my court.”

Merenre straightens. “The honor is great, your highness. May I present my wife, Tiy? She and the other women in our humble village have made a coat for the young Horus. As little as it is, it is our greatest wish that he finds pleasure in it.”

“I’m sure my son will,” the Pharaoh answers, with a sidelong glance at the prince’s throne. Akefia also glanced towards the prince to see what he made of the coat that Tiy spread out before him.

The prince isn’t even looking at it. Not at the coat. But he is staring straight at Akefia. 

Akefia startles as their eyes meet suddenly, and he hurriedly drops his eyes to the ground.

“Atem? What do you say?” the Pharaoh asks, a warning clear in his voice.

Akefia, still looking at the ground, doesn’t hear Atem say anything, but there is a rustle of cloth, and Ahmose lets out a little gasp, which is all the warning Akefia has before he is face to face with the princeling. They stare at each other, Akefia startled and the prince curiously, before a smile breaks out on the young boy’s face, revealing very white teeth. “Would you like to play a game?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A game is played, and Akefia learns that Atem is more perceptive than he looks.

“Uh?" Akefia says lamely, still staring at the prince. A voice in the back of his mind screams that he’s being horribly rude, that a commoner like him is not at all worthy to be this close to the king-in-training, much less look him directly into his eyes, yet he can’t look away.

The prince snorts. “I said, do you want to play a game?” His red eyes narrow slightly, as if unimpressed.

Akefia, at a loss to respond, is saved by the squat old man he had seen earlier. The elder meanders up to the family and places his hand on the prince’s shoulder. “Now, now, Atem, don’t intimidate the young man.” The man smiles down at Akefia. “Our prince is fond of games, you see. He wants to play with you, if you are willing.”

Akefia blinks. “I am not worthy to play against the prince, sir,” he murmurs, casting his gaze down to the floor, mind whirling towards panic.

The prince huffs. “Come on. I’m saying it’s alright, so play with me.” Maybe Akefia was imagining it, but a note of authority made its way into the prince’s voice, changing the suggestion into an order.

Akefia shot his father a desperate glance, but found Merenre smiling. “My son loves games as well, your highness,” he said, the traitor. “He would be honored.” Merenre raised an eyebrow at Akefia. “Right, son?”

Prince Atem clapped his hands. “Good! Then come with me!” Without waiting for Akefia to answer, the boy pulled at one of Akefia’s arms. “You know how to play Senet, right?” He chattered as Akefia got to his feet, still reeling over the fact that this little godling was talking to him, much less touching him, pulling on his arm like Seti and Nefer did when they wanted attention. He was being dragged over to the dais, and now Pharaoh Aknamkhanen was standing in front of him. 

Akefia yelped and dropped down to his knees again, going to prostrate himself before his king, the prince’s grip on his arm be damned, but a massive hand was placed on his head. “Rise, boy,” a deep, yet surprisingly gentle, voice commanded him. “Be at ease.”

Akefia got back to his feet, his gaze still downcast, and the living god in front of him laughed. “Atem, my son, I do believe you have scared the boy senseless.” The hand on Akefia’s arm was removed suddenly as Atem shrieked, lifted into the air like a doll by his father. The prince laughed. A large hand lifted Akefia’s chin up and he found himself staring into the king’s eyes. The man was wearing a smile. “Be at ease,” he said again. “How old are you?”

“F-fifteen summers, your majesty.” Akefia fought to keep the tremor out of his voice. 

The Pharaoh nodded. “You are among friends here, son of Merenre. Akefia, isn’t it? Would you indulge my troublesome son with a game of Senet?”

“Of course, your majesty.” Even as he spoke, Akefia couldn’t help but shoot another panicked glance back at his family, but found both his mother and father fighting back laughter. Tiy’s delicate hand was raised in front of her mouth, and her violet eyes twinkled as she watched her eldest son. Merenre was openly grinning, hands around Ahmose’s shoulders. Only Ahmose seemed to realize, with her wide, terrified eyes, that her older brother was literally in front of the god-king of Khemet, with a little godling holding tightly to his sleeve, and surely one wrong move here would totally mean his death, and-

He was being dragged over to a table, where servants were setting up a Senet board. The blue-eyed boy that Akefia noticed earlier was waiting by the table. “Really, Atem?” he hissed. “Now is not the time for games! This is your celebration!”

The price stuck out his holy tongue at the boy, whose scowl deepened. “Shut-up, Set!” the prince said flippantly. “I want to play a game. Senet pleases the gods, so as a priest-in-training, you should be happy!”

Set’s blue eyes rolled up to the ceiling, as if begging the gods for help. “Fine. Be rude, then.”

Atem’s crimson eyes narrowed, then he spun around with a wide smile on his face. “Father! Can we serve the guests food and drinks now?” he called.

The Pharaoh smiled and nodded, waving his hands at some servants standing by in the shadow of pillars in the corners of the throne room. Moments later, trays of food and drinks appeared and servants started mingling through the crowds, handing out refreshments. The air in the throne room changed from one of solemnity to one of tentative revelry as the guests relaxed.

“Do you want anything?” Atem asked Akefia, pointing to a chair pulled up to the small table. The prince hopped onto another chair and kicked his legs excitedly.

Akefia shook his head, sinking down into the chair across from the prince. “No, your grace, thank you,” he murmured, eyes staring down at the game board in front of him rather than meeting the godling’s strange eyes.

Atem huffed. “You can look at me. I don’t care.”

Akefia clenched his fists in his lap and forced his gaze up to the prince. Atem smiled back at him, showing white teeth. Beside him, a servant girl was lighting a stick of incense The heady aroma wafted over the board and the players.

“Let’s begin, then!”

Akefia picked up his pieces from the board. For a moment, he was stunned. The little figures were made of pure gold with different precious gems on the head. He turned a piece with a diamond back and forth, making it catch the light. The game board itself was carved from pure ivory. The throwing sticks were made of carved cedar wood. Just one piece from this board could feed a family for months.

“You can throw first,” Atem said, setting a pawn on the starting square, carved with an ankh. Akefia also set a pawn carefully beside Atem’s and gingerly picked up the cedar wood sticks. He hesitated for a moment before throwing them. Three sticks showed the mark while the last was face down. Akefia moved his pawn forward three spaces.

Atem picked up the sticks and threw a perfect five. He clapped before moving his pawn five spaces, passing Akefia’s.

And so their first game began. Before long, Akefia found himself passing Atem’s pawns. Atem then his the house of water and sighed in disappointment as he sent his pawn back to the starting square.

Akefia winced, seeing how close he was to the end of the board. Currently, his pawn was in the house of happiness. If he rolled a five, he would be able to move his first pawn off of the board, giving himself a significant lead. Doing that, however, would put the godling behind him. Under no circumstances would Akefia let Atem lose, even if it meant throwing the game himself. One does not simply beat the heir of the kingdom, after all. Akefia picked up the throwing sticks. If he rolled a one, he would also land in the house of water and be sent back to the start, giving Atem time to catch up and beat him. He could easily cheat the throw to give himself a one. Akefia quickly threw the sticks, hanging on to three of them a split second longer than necessary in order to change their positions to the blank side. As expected, one of the sticks fell face up, while the other three were face down. 

Akefia grimaced and shrugged, moving his pawn back to the start. “Bad luck, I suppose,” he murmured, looking up to meet Atem’s eyes.

Atem was glaring at him, eyes crimson fire. Akefia was taken aback. “I saw that,” the prince growled. “You fixed that throw to send yourself back. Why?”

Akefia’s blood ran cold. The prince was observant. “Uh, I…”

“You don’t want to win?”

“It’s not that.”

The prince let out a little growl. “We’re starting over.” Without another word, he picked up the sticks and handed them to Akefia. “Play right.”

There was a chime of musical laughter from nearby. “Ooohhhh, he caught you!” A girl bounced over to the table. She was wearing the robes of a magician-in-training and carried a short staff with a green jewel on the end. She had long brown hair covered by a hat that hung low over her face. She stood beside Atem and grinned at Akefia. 

“Are you scared to win? He’s not going to put you to death just because you beat him, you know.” The girl giggled and poked Atem’s cheek. The boy was pouting.

“Mana is right. Play fair.” Atem narrowed his eyes at Akefia. “A cheater is no fun to play with.”

Akefia looked between the two before letting out a long breath. “My apologies, my prince.” He took the sticks and threw them, landing a five. He moved his pawn forward and let out a small smile. “Glad I don’t have to hold back.”

“He may be spoiled, but he always plays fairly,” Set drawled from a chair a few feet away.

“I am not spoiled!” Atem yelled at him, turning his glare on the blue-eyed boy. 

“Are so! We’re cousins, so I should know!” Set shot back.

“You don’t know anything! All you know are your stupid scrolls!”

“Those scrolls aren’t stupid! I’m learning about how to worship and appease the gods! You should pay more attention instead of always running away from your lessons! You’re gonna end up completely dumb!”

Atem hissed. “At least I have friends!” Turning away, he grabbed the sticks and threw them, rolling a two. “See? You made me unlucky!” he yelled back at Set. He stuck out his tongue again. “You’re too tall! Your head is gonna reach the clouds!”

Set leaned forward, a vicious look in his eyes. “And you’re short!”

“Boys, that’s enough.” The old man had wandered over to the table and inserted himself between the cousins. “Atem, you’re playing a game for the gods. Show respect for the pieces and your opponent. Set, don’t antagonize your cousin. It’s his birthday celebration, after all.” The old man’s eyes twinkled as he ruffled Set’s hair. “You both can go back to your squabbling tomorrow.”

“I look forward to it!” Atem shot at Set before turning back to the game and moving his piece two spaces. 

Akefia tried. He really did. He didn’t hold back, but just as he was about to win, Atem landed on his square and sent his pawn back three spaces into the house of happiness. On his next turn, Atem rolled a two, sending his final pawn off the game board and into victory. The boy squealed and clapped his hands in delight, and Mana thumped him on the back. 

“Of course, you won,” she giggled. “You always make a comeback.”

Atem hopped out of his chair and dashed around the table to Akefia’s chair, taking the older boy’s hand. “That was so fun! Thank you for playing!” Atem grinned at him. “You’re very talented.”

“I thank you, my prince,” Akefia bowed his head. 

“I want to play with you more! I’m gonna make you my head tomb builder!”

Akefia just looked at him, dumbstruck. “What?”

“You’re so good at Senet, and Senet represents the journey into Aaru. Since you’re so good at it, I want you to design and build my tomb! Will you do that?” Atem’s red eyes were wide. “Please?”

“I-“ Akefia looked wildly around for his father, and found him standing not far away, next to the Pharaoh. Merenre was smiling as he walked over to his son.

“This is a big honor, son,” Merenre said softly. “But I think the prince is leaving it up to you to decide.”

Atem nodded fervently. “I’m not gonna make you, but I want you to.”

Akefia looked into Atem’s eyes. “Why me? Why not my father? He has more experience.”

“Our prince has a rather, shall we say, discerning talent.” The old man came to stand next to Merenre. “I don’t know how, but it seems the gods have blessed him with a discerning mind able to see people as they are. He’s very perceptive, especially when it comes to others.” The man smiled at Atem. “And I think he likes you. He sees something great in you.”

Atem nodded again. “I do like you,” he told Akefia. “If you say yes, you can come live here at the palace. You’d get an education and training, and we can play Senet and other games some more.”

“Atem likes making friends,” Set piped up, still sitting in his chair and acting disinterested.

Akefia focused his gaze back on the prince. Atem’s eyes were sparkling with hope as he waited for an answer. Akefia bowed his head. “I am honored, my prince,” he murmured. “And-“ he glanced at his father, then back to Atem. “I accept your offer. I pledge my services to you, in my ability as a tomb builder. I will not fail you.”


End file.
